


nine-tenths of the law

by karamelised



Series: no pressure, no diamonds ‘verse [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Beard Burn, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Bondage, Lingerie, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, aka the one where they have really polite sex, and by polite I mean they say 'please' a lot, even though no one is feeling particularly polite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5942455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karamelised/pseuds/karamelised
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis finally teaches Harry how to get out of the cuffs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nine-tenths of the law

**Author's Note:**

> So, Louis posted that selfie. And yet I totally blame [Alice](http://intenselouis.tumblr.com/) for this ficlet.
> 
> As always, all my love to my darling beta [Zoë](http://happilysunlight.tumblr.com/), you are amazing as always <3 and to [Dell](http://frecklebombfic.tumblr.com/), I sort of bombarded you with this, and what an amazing decision on my part <3
> 
> You don't need to read the other fics in the series to understand this one. All you need to know is Louis is a thief, Harry is a grifter and they are together. 
> 
> → [tumblr post](http://karamelised.tumblr.com/post/138885785157/fic-nine-tenths-of-the-law-timestamp-ficlet-in)

“I’m gonna come.”

Louis frowns, bites Harry’s bum cheek and sits up, looking down at his handiwork. Harry’s inner thighs -- at least the parts displayed with his legs pressed together like that -- his bum and some areas of his back are red hot and tender.

It contrasts nicely with his skin, pale where his shorts normally cover his bum and upper thighs, protecting them from the harsh rays of the Caribbean sun. The rest of him is gloriously tanned after two weeks of nothing much to do but lie in the sun or take a quick dip in the sea.

And it’s not like Louis doesn’t already love working on jobs with Harry, but if it leaves him with plenty of time to ogle his boyfriend in tiny little shorts and not much else, then it’s always a win.

The tan lines are clearly defined now and Harry hates them, would like nothing more than to lounge around on deck naked each day. But they’re here for a job and while it includes Harry mock-seducing George, the owner of the yacht they’re currently on, Louis has made it plenty clear that this one bothers him. He doesn’t like the way George looks at Harry, so Harry has been making concessions with this particular mark.

And anyway, Louis secretly likes the contrast in colour, offset even more by the black lace of the knickers Louis is wearing right now. That had come up a few months ago, Harry stumbling his way through the conversation. And Louis doesn’t mind, doesn’t get off on it the way Harry does, but that’s already reason enough for him to wear them on special occasions.

He leans forward, cock sliding against the cleft of Harry’s tender arse, warm even through the lace, just rough enough to make Harry twitch. It’s almost instinct now to slide his chin over Harry’s shoulder blade, to listen to the faint rasping sound of his beard against soft skin and Harry’s little whine. “No, you won’t.”

He shifts down, straddling Harry’s thighs now, pretty little bum right there to admire. Harry clenches when Louis drags a fingernail gently down the pinkened skin, and even that is pretty, too.

Harry squirms as best he can on his belly, arms stretched out above him and still firmly secured as he tries to lengthen his back, push closer to Louis. “How’re those handcuffs coming?”

“They aren’t,” Harry says in that petulant voice he gets when he wants to come but can’t. It’s one of Louis’ favourites but he still gives a particularly red spot on Harry’s love handles a quick pinch. It gets him a lovely little sound from Harry, whose hips are pushing forward now, rutting into the cushion beneath. “I am about to, though.”

Louis _tsks_ loudly, finger slipping to circle Harry’s hole, just where he knows the beard burn to be the worst.

He should think so, what with having been eating Harry out for close to fifteen minutes now. There’s plenty of spit and practically no resistance when he pushes in slowly, teasingly. But Harry doesn’t react, hips still circling against the cushion, eyes screwed shut in concentration and teeth digging into the flesh of his upper arm.

Another frown creeps over Louis’ face. He can’t say he much likes being ignored like this. With his free hand he reaches over to grab the lube from the nightstand, almost empty because they’ve been on this yacht for a fortnight now. And, like clockwork, he’d been sneaking into Harry’s bedroom every evening. It’s much nicer than the staff quarters, and they’ve made good use of every available flat surface and some much-needed privacy.

It’s fun pretending not to know Harry during the day, teasing him where he can. But this, this still trumps all.

He doesn’t even warm the lube, just spreads Harry’s bum and drizzles it on, pushing it deep with the next movement. There’s a hiss from Harry, but whether it’s from the coldness or the fact that Louis adds a second finger is anyone’s guess.

“Gonna come,” Harry groans, muscles in his back moving as he writhes on the covers. “ _Please._ ”

“No,” Louis laughs and presses down on his prostate. “You only get to come when you free yourself, that was the deal.”

“I’m renegotiating the deal,” Harry says, hips snapping forward, fast and hard, in that way he gets before dissolving into incoherent grunts and coming shortly after. “Wanna come now.”

“That shit might work with your marks, love, but I’m not as easily swayed by you putting on your authoritative voice.” He stops teasing Harry, stretching him out with both fingers pushed apart. “Will let you fuck me though. If you finally manage to open the cuffs.”

“Louis,” Harry _whines_ , petulant now even though he knows that tone never works on him.

“No,” Louis says firmly, pouring more lube. It lands on the back of his hand before sliding down along his fingers to pool around Harry’s rim.

He pulls his fingers free after a few more thrusts and fumbles with the knickers. He isn’t about to get up and remove them, so he just pushes the fabric down, hooks the elastic behind his balls with a low hiss at the sensation. He bites his lip and concentrates on holding Harry open instead.

It’s more difficult in this position, with Harry’s legs pressed together, bracketed by Louis’ own thighs. But he manages, guiding his cock down with his free hand until the head catches on Harry’s rim, and he pushes forward, right into Harry’s sharp intake of breath. His voice is unsteady when he finally continues, “until you’ve freed yourself, I’m just gonna do exactly as I please.”

Harry’s hands are both grasping the headboard now, not even attempting to open the cuffs. He arches his back, taking Louis deeper instead, incoherent chanting drifting up to Louis’ ears, interspersed with moans.

He’s kind of loud but it’s okay because the mark, George, whatever, has headed over to the mainland earlier via the heli-pad at the rear of the yacht. It’s given them the perfect excuse to do as they please without blowing their cover, so Louis doesn’t even mind, even though he’d love nothing more than to go for a ride in a helicopter again. Harry had taken him out after getting his license and Louis had loved the freedom of it, of the endless sky and no one there to bother them.

Of course, Louis _could_ be using this time to steal the blueprints from the safe in the master bedroom, but he has priorities, thank you _very_ much.

Harry’s moans quickly deteriorate into whimpers, still loud and gorgeous though. Louis grabs both of his arse cheeks, thumbs rubbing repeatedly over the beard burn as he pulls them apart to watch his cock slide effortlessly into the tight heat of Harry’s eager body.

The redness of Harry’s skin makes an intricate pattern, stretching down past where Louis can see just now, right down to the backs of his knees. Louis circles his bum, rubbing the lace of the knickers over Harry’s skin and smiling when he sobs at the sensation, biting at the covers to stop the incessant stream of pleas spilling from his lips.

Louis leans forward to rasp right into Harry’s ear, dragging his nails down the side of Harry’s ribcage to make him shiver. “Can’t wait to see you up on the deck after we’re done here. Can’t wait to see how all this red looks next to your little white swim trunks.”

He fucks Harry harder now, one hand fisting in Harry’s curls to pull his head back a little, just enough to get his attention. “Can’t wait for George to see them, to know you let yourself be fucked by someone that wasn’t him. Should teach him a lesson to just assume you’re available.” Louis angles his hips, sliding over Harry’s prostate next. “And you aren’t, are you, love?”

Harry clenches and shudders beneath him and Louis genuinely fears his words have pushed Harry over the edge.“Did you just come?”

Harry shakes his head desperately, mouth opening and closing several times before he manages a weak, “need you, Lou, _please._ ”

Louis slows his thrusts until he’s just circling his hips, grinding in deep while he blankets Harry’s back, hand reaching up to cover Harry’s grip on the headboard where his knuckles are turning white.

“Still got your paperclip?”

They’d hidden it in Harry’s bracelet, though Louis had also shown him several other props to help him open the cuffs. He’s secretly commissioned a ring for Harry, one with an intricate vine design and a little steel detachable lock-pick. He’s a bit nervous about the ring, anxiously awaiting its completion while being glad it’s taking longer than quoted, because, well. A ring is never just a ring, even if it does help get you out of handcuffs.

“Dropped it,” Harry finally admits.

Louis chuckles and kisses his neck before grabbing another one from the nightstand and pushing it into Harry’s grasp. He holds the little thing weakly, clenching around Louis’ cock instead when he grinds down just so.

“Bend it open then,” Louis murmurs encouragingly.

He watches Harry’s fingers fumble, listens to the desperate moan when the head of his cock brushes over Harry’s prostate.

Harry is still learning, so Louis doesn’t mind helping out. That doesn’t mean he’s going to make this easy.

When Harry finally holds the crooked length of the opened paperclip between index finger and thumb, Louis gently guides it to the keyhole in the cuff. “Now move it around gently,” he whispers into Harry’s ear, doing just that with his cock and smiling into Harry’s skin when he almost drops the little piece of metal again.

He covers Harry’s fingers with his own, gently directs the paperclip until he encounters the soft resistance of the locking mechanism.

He grabs Harry’s hip with his free hand and pushes in deep, staying there while he tries to ignore the tendrils of pleasure shooting up from his cock all the way to his fingertips. “Feel that?”

Harry laughs weakly, mumbles, “you’re the worst tease, _ever_.”

“Hmm,” Louis hums, urging Harry to move his fingers and start the unlocking process in the cuff. “Don’t think that’s the word you’re looking for. I always follow through on my promises.”

It takes them both another minute or so, but eventually there’s a tell-tale little _snick_ and the cuff opens.

“Well done, love,” Louis says, kissing Harry’s back. He picks up the pace, just a little, his own pleasure driving him to it. “Now the other one.”

“Louis,” Harry warns, like he’s actually trying to sound tough or something.

He doesn’t reply, starts in on the skin at the back of Harry’s neck, sucking and worrying it with his teeth.

He’s so lost in his own pleasure now, in the hot clench of Harry’s arse and the satisfying feeling of putting a love bite right where everyone will see and imagine just _how_ Harry got it.

So lost, in fact, that he only notices Harry has managed to free himself completely when Harry’s hand wraps around the back of Louis’ neck, pulling him closer, encouraging him in his efforts to put the biggest bruise on Harry’s skin to date.

“There, free. Now _please_ make me come.”

The problem is, Louis is a thief. And granted, there aren’t many rules he doesn’t break regularly, but his word means something, everything, in his line of work. It’s ingrained in his nature now and so he sighs and, with an enormous amount of self-control he didn’t know he possessed, pulls out.

His cock isn’t happy about it, and neither is he. Even Harry grabs for him desperately, shuffling down and arching his back to, fuck, _present_ himself or something. And Louis can’t take that, is only human, scrambles backwards and away from temptation.

He fumbles for the lube, presses it into Harry’s hand when he sits up with a frown on his face.

He throws himself onto his back, thighs falling open easily as he reaches down to pull the lace aside. Thankfully the material is stretchy, still sitting firmly behind his balls to let his cock dribble freely onto his stomach, enough give in the knickers left to expose his hole.

“Promised you could fuck me once you’re out of the cuffs.” When Harry doesn’t move, just stares like he’s never seen Louis’ bum before, Louis snaps, “listen, hurry the fuck up because I was about to come and if you don’t start right the fuck now I’m gonna wank off while you just stare like an idiot.”

“Oh,” Harry breathes, but it spurs him to action and something like muscle memory must set in because he opens Louis up quickly and efficiently, even if he still uses more lube than Louis would like.

And while Louis is the one to urge him on, to tell him it’s fine and to get his cock into Louis because he isn’t about to come on his fingers, the stretch when he finally does push in is just this side of uncomfortable.

Louis squeezes his eyes shut and breathes out through his nose, can’t help but be turned on by this as well.

“You okay?” Harry asks. He sounds more in control than he did just a few minutes ago, less desperately writhing and more focused on how Louis is doing.

It’s all Louis needs to let go of that part of himself, a part he dearly loves but that is superfluous when Harry’s cock is filling him up so perfectly, when he _doesn’t_ have to concentrate to make it good for Harry, because Harry knows what he likes best, how to move to get it. And Louis can just revel in the feeling, the stretch and the fullness, the way it spreads through his body in waves, crashing into his skin from the inside. Taking and giving, both so amazing, both loved, but differently.

“Lou,” Harry begs into the skin at the base of his throat. “Please answer me.”

Louis reaches down to grab Harry’s arse, nails digging into the tender skin while he pulls him closer, deeper. “ _Please_ ,” Louis breathes into Harry’s mouth, feels Harry’s dick twitch when Harry grabs his thighs desperately, hiking them up higher around his hips. He’d roll his eyes if he were actually annoyed, but he finds himself hard-pressed to experience any emotion besides bliss. “Please shut up and fuck me.”

And Harry does, finds the right angle after adjusting his stance for better leverage. He slides his arms up underneath Louis’ back, hands cupping the back of Louis’ head.

Louis notices he’s been thrashing it about, one hand digging into Harry’s back while the other is clutching the headboard in a death grip, fingers almost cramping.

Harry turns his head gently until they’re face to face, and Louis just opens his mouth, knowing the kiss will come. It’s uncoordinated and lovely all at once, only breaking off when Harry reaches down to adjust the angle of Louis’ hips, making him throw back his head when heat erupts deep in his belly.

“I love you so much,” Harry whispers, fiercely, and without reservation. “Most amazing thing that ever happened to me, being with you.”

Louis smiles, eyes still shut because he’s about to come and his eyelids don’t work quite right.

Harry notices, kisses his cheekbone. “You gonna come for me, baby? Want you to.” He grunts, speeding up. “Need you to.”

Louis opens his mouth but nothing comes out, so he just nods again.

“You want my hand?”

He nods some more, had already been wondering vaguely how he would ever let go of either Harry or the headboard and glad that he doesn’t have to.

He arches into Harry’s grip, palm warm as it wraps around his cock, Louis’ bicep straining from how he’s trying to push the headboard away, using it to arch up even more.

“Can’t believe I’m fucking you in black lace panties on a multi-million dollar yacht.”

Louis wants to laugh, point out the obvious flaws in that sentence but his orgasm overtakes him and his mouth goes slack instead, choked-off, desperate sounds escaping all on their own.

Harry fucks him through it perfectly, letting go of Louis’ cock when he finally slumps into the covers.

Harry is chasing his own orgasm now, face smushed against Louis’ shoulder as he ruts into him desperately and freezes up, whole body locking into position, the only movement the faint pulsing deep inside of Louis.

Then he collapses, mostly next to Louis but still knocking the breath out of his lungs.

He gathers his wits and pushes at Harry’s shoulders, enough to make him roll off with a grunt.

He lands on his back, chest heaving, smile stretching his pretty lips.

Louis wriggles out of the lace underwear, wincing when the elastic drags over parts still far too sensitive.

“Think they’re ruined?” Harry asks, still gulping in air. He looks rather sad at the prospect.

“That depends,” Louis says, giving the lace a speculative look. “When are you doing laundry next?”

Harry laughs and rolls on top of him, grabbing the hand with the lace and pinning it over his head.

Louis doesn’t flinch, just stretches luxuriously under Harry’s body.

“Those are hand wash only. You know this. You’ve been successfully doing laundry for years before I came along.”

Louis widens his eyes, knows he can pull off innocent but never in front of Harry. “But I’ve never had such pretty underwear. What if I ruin them? They were a present, you know?”

Harry plucks them from his grasp and throws them in the vague direction of the hamper. He leans down for another kiss, murmurs just before their lips connect, “I’ll wash them for you later, you lazy bastard.”

That sort of talk can’t stand and Louis makes sure to concentrate less on the kiss and more on rubbing his beard against Harry’s lips in punishment.

“Unlike your cover, I’m not here for pleasure. I’m part of the staff, I actually have to work.”

“Handing me a towel or a drink is not work, and judging by how loud you were, there was plenty of pleasure just a few moments ago.”

“Says the guy that’s been lounging around in the sun for _weeks_ , with nothing but too-small swimming trunks and a drink in his hand.”

“Please,” Harry says, a smirk on his rubbed-raw lips. “You love all my shorts. Don’t think I don’t feel your eyes on me.”

The fact that anyone else’s eyes will soon see the beard burn Harry is sprouting puts Louis in a particularly good mood. Enough so that his next sentence comes out more teasing than possessive. “You sure it’s my eyes you’re feeling? Plenty of other eyes on this yacht.”

Harry’s eyes go soft, his fingers gently carding through Louis’ hair. “Yours are the only ones that count.”

Louis grins, pushes Harry onto his back and straddles his hips. “And don’t you forget it,” he says through a laugh, just before their lips connect.

###

Later that day, Louis finally goes back to work. Not his cover as part of the staff, his _actual_ work. He’s currently making his way, inch by inch, along the side of the yacht.

Just him, his gear and the water rushing by underneath, that annoying strand of hair whipping in the wind.

He’s just negotiating a particularly tough stretch, when voices drift down to him. He looks at the tiny window that’s his destination, just a few feet away. As promised, Harry has left it slightly open under the pretense of wanting to see the master bedroom earlier.

Louis’ hold is precarious at best but he stops nonetheless when he can make out Harry’s voice, loud and clear even over the rush of the water below.

“But that’s not why I am here, am I George?”

“You might have -- implied it. The flirting was rather, well, suggestive.”

Harry laughs and Louis can just see him, leaning forward and eyes squinty, in his shorts with the edges rolled up, marks on his thighs clearly visible.

“Look George,” Harry says slowly, in that voice he uses to placate a mark. Whatever comes next, Louis knows it’ll be a lie. “I wouldn’t say no on principle. You’re very attractive, after all. It’s just that, right now, I am not on the market.”

Louis smirks, weirdly proud as he makes his way towards the window. If he has any say in it, and maybe with the help of the commissioned ring, he’ll make sure Harry stays off the market, too. Indefinitely.

It’s a tight squeeze but he manages to get inside the master bedroom, safe door springing open minutes later.

There’s no rush though, and he isn’t worried about George interrupting him. He’d told Harry he’ll need at least thirty minutes. It’s only been seventeen and, that’s the thing, he trusts Harry implicitly.

With how he’ll handle George, keep him at arm's length. With how he’ll move heaven and earth before anyone would come into this room before the thirty minutes are up. With, well, everything, really.

It’s a weird new concept in his life, one he’s still getting used to. He distracts himself by having a good long look around the room once everything is stored in his backpack, safe securely shut again.

Turns out, besides the generic decor this place has about as much personality as George himself.

He leaves the way he came, with five minutes to spare.

Some time later and with the blueprints securely hidden away, Louis takes a drink to the upper deck from the kitchen below. Apparently George is feeling a bit frustrated, because he’s ordered a double scotch on the rocks.

Louis had practically wrestled the drink out of the hands of another staff member, but he wants to reassure Harry that he’s done in the bedroom, that they can leave the moment they feel like it.

Of course, Harry doesn’t acknowledge him when he walks into the sitting area, because his number one rule is to never drop the con.

But Louis does get to hear a sound from behind him, though, right when he bends down to place the drink on the the low table in front of George.

“Can I get you anything else, sir?” Louis asks, trying to appear helpful and attentive. Harry has gone rigid, frozen in his seat and staring at Louis’ back until his skin breaks out in goose bumps.

He’s dismissed moments later, intent on heading back down to the kitchen to grab a snack for himself, think up other ways to tease Harry some more.

Only Harry catches up to him halfway, pushes him face-first into a little alcove that mostly hides them from prying eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He strains against Harry’s grip, but there’s no chance of him turning around right now. Not if Harry doesn’t want him to, or unless he starts fighting dirty.

“My job? What else would I be doing?”

“Why,” Harry growls, one large hand sliding down the back of Louis’ white uniform shorts, “the fuck are you wearing the purple lace panties?”

Harry grabs said lace and Louis’ underlying bum in a rough grip, squeezing possessively.

Louis smirks but makes sure not to let it alter his tone, keeps it slightly confused even though he doubts Harry would be able to tell in his current state. “Because if you recall,” he says slowly, “the black pair needs washing.”

“People can _see_ ,” Harry hisses, pushing Louis more firmly against the wall, both his hands settling on Louis’ hips. “That’s not for anyone else to look at.”

Louis doesn’t wait, uses the element of surprise to spin around and reverse their positions, pressing Harry’s back against the wall while their fronts align. “Listen here, Harold,” he says in a sharp tone of voice, but the grin still pulls at his lips. “Are you -- _jealous_?”

“I --” Harry looks at him with wide eyes, like his mind is just now starting to be part of the equation again. “I mean. Maybe? I don’t know.”

Louis moves onto his tip toes to give Harry a resounding smack on the lips. “Don’t worry, love,” he tells him, hand slipping between Harry’s thighs to gently stroke over the still irritated skin just under the edge of his shorts. “I know a way to alleviate that feeling.”

“Yeah?” Harry says, voice dropping.

Louis nods, giving Harry’s thigh another squeeze before pulling away.

“Won’t work for you, though,” he says, teasing. “‘Cause unfortunately, you can’t grow a beard to save your life.”

“Hey,” Harry says, all slow and offended. “You’re being mean.”

Louis laughs, walking away and swaying his hips purposefully. It’s not even that much, but it’s enough for Harry to follow him moments later. “Where’re we going?”

Louis shrugs, taking Harry’s hand and squeezing it. “Dunno. Where d’you wanna go, love?”

Harry is quiet for a long moment, long enough for them to reach Louis’ quarters. He retrieves his backpack from its hiding place, and with one last look around the room, heads back out again.

“What about,” Harry says, biting his lip. “What about the Bahamas? I got a little place there.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, the smile wide on his face. Harry has shown him several of the properties he owns around the world, none of which would fall under the category of ‘little’. “Let’s do that, then.”

“How’re we getting there?”

“You know,” Louis starts as he grabs for Harry’s hand again, waits for Harry to fall into step beside him. “I’ve always wanted to steal a helicopter.”

**Author's Note:**

> psst comments are the fuel for future fics <3
> 
> → [tumblr post](http://karamelised.tumblr.com/post/138885785157/fic-nine-tenths-of-the-law-timestamp-ficlet-in)


End file.
